


Last Stand

by Spikedluv



Category: V (1983)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Established Relationship, M/M, Twenty-Four Hours to Live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 18:33:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: This time tomorrow they could both be dead.





	Last Stand

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place sometime post-episode 1.3 of the TV series.
> 
> Written for Round 10 of [Trope Bingo on DW](http://trope_bingo.dreamwidth.org) to fill the _Twenty-Four Hours To Live_ square.
> 
> Posted: April 9, 2018

“If you make me knock you out and carry you over my shoulder it’ll be bad for morale.”

Mike glared at Ham, and then his expression lightened and he snorted. “Like you could.” Mike shook his head and gestured towards the men loading up the trucks. “I can’t leave now.”

“Now is the only time you can leave,” Ham said. “You need to eat something and rest so you’ll be one hundred percent tomorrow. Or as close to it as any of us can be these days.”

“What difference does it make whether I’m at one hundred percent?” Mike said. It wasn’t the first time Mike had shared his reservations with Ham, but he’d never sounded so defeated before.

The battle lines had been drawn, but their reinforcements – personnel and weapons – had either been delayed or captured. There was no way to know which because communications had been cut. If the Visitors managed to wipe out the resistence in LA they would be one step closer to taking over the world.

In response to Mike, Ham said, “Because, even if they win tomorrow, we’re going to make their victory a very costly one. And we need you at your best so we can do that.”

Mike looked like he wanted to argue, but he visibly deflated. “I don’t know if I can eat or sleep. This time tomorrow . . .” Mike’s voice drifted off.

“Just take a few minutes to recharge,” Ham said.

Mike relented and allowed Ham to lead him to the cafeteria. There were pockets of silence and soft whispers as people prepared themselves for the upcoming battle, the long drive, or just being separated from their families, and bustling activity as others packed up the food and kitchen utensils that would be leaving after dark with the children, elderly, and those who couldn’t fight, along with the men and women chosen by Julie to guard them on the road.

Mike’s legs gave out and he collapsed into the chair Ham pulled out for him. Ham set a mug of weak tea in front of Mike and left him alone again just long enough to grab a tray he loaded with two bowls of mystery stew and two slices of dry bread. Ham watched Mike pick at the stew and take desultory sips of the tea as he ate.

“The only thing going for this tea is that it’s warm,” Mike said.

They’d been existing on fumes for the last week, having diverted their last shipment of food to the refugee camp in Portland, OR that their people would soon be calling home.

“This stew tastes like lizard,” Ham said.

Mike gave Ham a look. “That joke never gets old,” he said dryly.

Ham forced himself to finish his stew – he didn’t look too closely at what was in it because he didn’t want to know – in order to be a good influence on Mike. The thought made him chuckle.

Mike raised his eyebrows. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” Ham said. “I was just thinking about me being a good influence on you.”

Mike hummed, but he took another bite of mystery stew. Ham stretched out his legs and sipped at the weak tea. Mike pushed the half-eaten stew aside. He stared into the bottom of his cup and pressed his foot against Ham’s.

Ham finished his tea and stood. He piled all the dishes onto the tray. “Let’s get out of here.”

Ham dropped the tray off and met Mike at the door. In the courtyard, trucks were still being loaded. Some with food and bedding and other supplies for the trip to the refugee camp. Others with weapons and other equipment for the ride to the location they’d chosen for their last stand.

Three good people had died getting them the information that the Visitors had created a new weapon to use against the resistance. It would disperse a cloud of gas that would make the humans as docile as cattle, an idea they’d taken from the resistence’s use of the red dust. The Visitors could scoop them up at their leisure and freeze dry them for the trip home without any opposition.

They’d missed the opportunity to destroy the factory before the weapon could be deployed, but they had learned that the Visitors were targeting the resistence cell in LA in order to make an example out of them. They had one last chance to scuttle the weapon before it could be used. As a bonus, they’d kill as many Visitors as they could. It would be a victory, if only a pyrrhic one.

Ham took Mike’s hand before he could head towards the trucks and drew him away from the activity. They couldn’t go far because there wasn’t far to go, but they managed to find some privacy out back where a playground for the children had been set up.

Mike stared north towards the refugee camp one thousand miles away. “Whatever happens today, it’ll be worth it if we can destroy that weapon.”

Ham wrapped his arms around Mike from behind and rested his forehead against Mike’s shoulder. He couldn’t think of anything that would make Mike’s death okay. What he said was, “Who thought I’d be willing to die for a cause?”

“Gonna have to start calling you ‘Gooder’,” Mike said, turning his head so that his jaw brushed the top of Ham’s head.

Ham raised his head to show Mike eyes widened in faked horror. “God forbid!”

Mike huffed and the corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn’t much, but it was more than they’d been able to get from him since the missed rendezvous.

As if he’d read Ham’s mind, Mike said, “What do you think happened to them?”

It wasn’t a rhetorical question, no matter that they’d exhausted all their theories, but Ham didn’t have an answer. Not one Mike needed to hear, anyway. “Whatever kept them from meeting us, I hope they live to fight another day.”

Mike nodded and turned back to face forward. They stood like that for a few moments before Mike turned suddenly in Ham’s arms and kissed him. Ham tipped his head back and opened to the press of Mike’s lips. He let Mike take the lead, giving back when Mike kissed him hard, as if he was trying to forget their current circumstances, and following suit when Mike softened the kiss. Mike ended the kiss sooner than Ham wanted, but he just breathed when Mike pressed their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry,” Mike said.

“For what?”

“That we don’t have longer, that I’m selfishly glad you’re here even though it means we’re both gonna die.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Ham said, and found himself meaning it. “Come on.”

Mike allowed Ham to lead them towards the back door. “I’m not going to be able to sleep,” Mike warned. “I can’t stop thinking about . . . everything.”

“Leave that to me,” Ham said.

Mike snorted. “Not sure I’ll be able to do that, either.”

They managed to reach the single room they shared without Mike getting distracted by some task he had to do. Ham took Mike’s jacket and made him sit on the closest mattress so Ham could help him with his boots. Mike sighed, but let Ham remove the boots. He even laid down and shoved over to make room for Ham on the edge so Ham could remove his own boots.

Ham stretched out on his back and Mike rolled so he pressed against Ham’s side. Lying this close together they only took up one of the mattresses they’d placed side-by-side on the floor. Ham put his arm around Mike’s shoulders and ran his fingers through Mike’s hair, scratching his scalp. Mike let out a soft shuddering sigh and the tension bled out of him.

“I hate you,” Mike said.

“No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

Ham waited until Mike was almost asleep before whispering, “I’m glad we met up again.” Even if it meant they were going to die together.

Mike made a sound deep in his throat and wiggled closer to Ham, which he took to mean, “Me, too.”

~*~

Ham was going over the military trucks to make sure everything had been loaded when Mike reemerged. Mike gave Ham a blistering look that Ham ignored because Mike had needed the rest, no matter that he thought otherwise.

“What’s our status?” Mike said sharply.

“Everything’s loaded,” Ham reported. The only weapons remaining in the armory were the ones they’d be carrying. Ham fell into step beside Mike as he headed for the other set of trucks.

“You look better,” Julie said before Mike could ask for her status. “We’re ready to go as soon as it’s dark.”

Mike nodded. He turned his head, taking in the hospital they’d made their current base of operations. “I’m going to miss this place.”

As resistance bases went, it had been one of their nicer ones, Ham had to admit. As the Visitors put a stranglehold on the heart of LA, they’d moved out into the surrounding neighborhoods, and the number of families that had joined them had increased. The abandoned hospital, with its stock of medical supplies, plenty of rooms, cafeteria, and generator, had been the perfect choice for a base. It was also where Mike and Ham had finally gotten their act together. For that reason alone Ham was going to miss the place.

Ham stayed with Mike as he made one last trip through the base, making sure all the rooms had been cleared of things they could fit onto the trucks. They found a doll in the hallway that had fallen out of a tiny pair of arms and a forgotten pile of blankets. Mike handed off the blankets to Julie and they found Tara in the cafeteria where everyone was gathering for their final meal before heading out. Tara hugged Ham’s legs when he returned the doll to her. Mike didn’t bother biting back the grin as Ham awkwardly patted her head.

Julie gave a speech and everyone dug in as if they weren’t going to be splitting up in a few hours. Mike and Ham ate enough to not reveal their nerves, and then went outside to relieve two of the guards so they could get something to eat.

Mike’s radio clicked twice and moments later the sound of a motorcycle engine reached them. Ham kept his weapon trained on the riders even after Mike opened the gate and let them inside. Ham didn’t stand down until they removed their helmets and poked their fingers so they could confirm that their blood ran red.

“How’s it look out there?” Mike said.

“The road east is clear,” Kyle reported.

“Good. Go get something to eat.”

Elizabeth waved to them as the motorcycle pulled closer to the building. Ham watched the two dismount and head towards the front doors.

An hour later all of the dishes had been washed and packed into one of the trucks. Mike, Ham, and the other resistance fighters had geared up, and families and friends said their goodbyes. Julie had originally argued with Mike, but eventually agreed that she was needed to keep the families together and the resistance going should this be the final days of the LA cell. She gave Mike and Ham each a hug before climbing into the front of the lead truck.

“You’re gonna meet us there, right?” Tara said.

Ham squatted so they were eye-to-eye. “I’m gonna do my best.”

Tara nodded as if that was good enough for her, and threw her arms around Ham’s neck. Ham carried her to the truck where her mother and older sister waited. Before he could get back to Mike, Elizabeth caught him in a hug and Kyle shook his hand.

“See you later,” Elizabeth said.

Ham merely nodded because he wasn’t that good of a liar.

The trucks began moving, Kyle and Elizabeth pulling out first on the motorcycle to take the lead. They’d head east until they got further away from LA, and then head northwest. Elizabeth would use her powers to make sure they remained unnoticed by Visitors and roving gangs. Ham and Mike stood and watched after the convoy until they could no longer hear their engines.

Mike turned to the remaining trucks and raised his hand, circling his finger. The engines started and the trucks slowly inched forward. Mike and Ham climbed into the first truck. Mike clutched his radio in his hand, their last connection with the convoy. Ham didn’t comment on it.

Knowing that the Visitors were coming for them, Mike, Ham and Julie had decided that they should pick the place to stand and fight. Or for a good ambush. They’d pored over aerial maps of the route the Visitors would be taking and did recon until they found the perfect spot. Now they drove the trucks as close as they could to the position they’d chosen, took them off the road and covered them with camouflage netting.

Before they set out on foot Mike stood on the back one of the transport trucks and gave a short speech. When Mike was done he glanced at Ham, who stepped up and reminded them to keep their heads down and not waste the lizard-killing bullets.

“Very rousing,” Mike said when he’d jumped down from the truck.

Ham ignored his comment and told Mike, “You keep your head down, too.”

“I will,” Mike said. “You do the same.”

Everyone loaded up backpacks and cases filled with weapons. When they reached the stretch of road where they’d decided to set up their ambush they went to work. Paula and Charlie chose their nests and set up the sniper rifles. Shaun and Gary set up the explosive devices. Mike, Ham, Doug, and Hillary assembled the grenade launchers.

Twenty minutes later Jim and Roberta radioed back that they were in position. They’d hidden themselves a mile down the road and would serve as their early warning system. Everyone else loaded up on rifles and extra ammo and spread out to find a bush, rock, or ditch for cover.

When everything was in place they settled in to wait. Comms were silent, and every sound set Ham’s heart racing. Two clicks on the radio, followed by one, then two again – the Visitor convoy was entering the ambush zone. Ham took a deep breath. Now that battle was imminent his nerves settled.

The seconds ticked by, and the transport vehicles drew closer, until finally Mike said, “Now.”

Ham imagined he could see their explosive experts engage the magnets on the bombs they’d hidden on the road, imagined the clunk as the bombs attached themselves to the bottom of the vehicles passing over them. Ham plugged his ears, closed his eyes, and ducked his head. The bombs went off, the resulting explosions disabling the vehicles.

Before the Visitors could recover, Ham (and Mike on the other side of the road) rose from his hiding place and neatly fit the grenade launcher to his shoulder. Ham took out what was left of the lead vehicle and Mike aimed for the tarp-covered trailer that carried the Visitor’s new weapon.

Doug and Hillary took out two troop transports, but Visitors spilled out of the remaining vehicles, weapons already up and firing. Two Visitors fell almost immediately from sniper fire, then two more before they hurried to find cover.

Comms crackled in Ham’s ear. “Shuttle incoming!”

The shuttle was there, firing, before the warning died out. Dirt and rocks exploded into the air and rained down where at least one person had taken cover. Ham reloaded his grenade launcher with economical, practiced motions. He stood and set the launcher to his shoulder, aimed. The shuttle jerked at the last minute and the grenade exploded in the air beside the right rear, sending the shuttle bouncing and shuddering into the grenade Mike fired.

The shuttle exploded and spun before the flaming remains came down on two of the Visitor’s trucks, setting off another explosion. Two more shuttles appeared in the sky above them.

“Doug, Hillary,” Mike said. “They already know we’re here, so Ham and I will distract them while you take them out.”

Ham grunted his understanding as he reloaded and got the launcher settled against his shoulder. He glanced across the road and saw Mike doing the same. Ham aimed the launcher at the nearest shuttle. “Any time now,” he said.

Both shuttles performed evasive maneuvers that drove them right into the path of the grenades fired by Doug and Hillary. Ham ducked as shots fired wildly from the out-of-control shuttle as it went down.

A unit of Visitors jumped from the third shuttle before it hit the ground, skidding into the brush at the side of the road, and joined the other lizards trading fire with their team. There were more lizards than they’d expected, which meant the Visitors had expected resistance. They’d suspected when their backup hadn’t arrived, but this seemed to confirm that someone inside the resistence was feeding information to the Visitors.

Ham strung the launcher around his neck. He pulled his rifle forward and prepared to go help his team against the lizards. Just as he took his first step a shuttle rose up over the hill at his back. Ham swore and reached for the grenade launcher, knowing even as he did that it would be too late.

Comms crackled again. “Remember the Alamo!”

“Marcos,” Mike said, relief evident in his voice.

“Where the hell have you guys been?” Ham said, releasing the grenade launcher.

“We ran into some problems,” Marcos said. “Wanna clear me a path? I’m itching to take out some more lizards.”

Everyone started moving even before Mike yelled, “Fall back, fall back!”

Once the path opened up before him Marcos mowed down the Visitors. Marcos made one pass, then turned and made another before finding a clear section of road on which to land the shuttle.

Marcos and five members of the Houston resistance spilled out of the shuttle. The five joined their team in mopping up while Marcos stopped to talk to Mike and Ham, who’d both climbed down from their positions to meet him.

“Where’s the rest of your team?” Mike said.

“Like I said, we ran into some problems,” Marcos said. “I’ll tell you all about it once we verify that the weapon has been destroyed.”

The next few hours were spent tending to their wounded – they’d lost four men and women and twice that many needed to be stitched up or bandaged. Ham argued that the cut near his eye from a piece of ricocheting stone was ‘just a scratch’, but he ended up getting it cleaned and closed with a butterfly bandage anyway – and pulling away the rubble so their engineers could confirm that they’d taken out the weapon.

Once everyone had eaten and rested they began the work of stripping the Visitor’s bodies of weapons and ammo before dragging them off the road to be burned, and salvaging whatever they could from the Visitor’s trucks and shuttles.

“What are you going to do now?” Marcos said.

“Pinch myself,” Mike said.

Ham nodded. They’d both thought this was a suicide mission. The fact that they were both still standing was a miracle.

“Then find a new base of operations.”

Marcos looked surprised. “You’re staying in LA?”

“It’s where we can do the most good,” Mike said.

Marcos glanced at Ham, who just shrugged.

“They’re determined to wipe you out.” He swept his arm to indicate the hulks of the Visitor’s trucks and shuttles. “Even more after this defeat.”

“They’ll need to try harder,” Mike said.

Ham would’ve been the first to call Mike on his overconfident, Mary Sunshine, can-do attitude, but he was too glad that the defeated slump of his shoulders was missing.

Marcos shook his head and wandered off.

“What are you thinking about the new base?” Ham said.

“That I’m going to miss that hospital,” Mike said morosely.

“Maybe we should find someplace smaller,” Ham said. “Easier to defend.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve already sent the women and children north where they’ll be safe.” Where the red dust was still effective against the Visitors. “We’ll probably lose a couple more when they decide to head north to meet up with their families. We’ll be fewer in number, but that could be a good thing.”

“What are you thinking?” Mike said. “A strike team?”

“Something like that.”

“We’ll have to find the mole first,” Mike said. “And then . . .”

“Then what?”

“We’re not dead,” Mike said.

“No, we’re not.”

Mike wiggled his eyebrows.

“ _Now_ you’re in the mood?”

Mike grinned. “Let’s go meet with Marcos, see if we can ferret out our mole so we can get to that.”

Ham watched Mike’s back as he walked away. He touched the butterfly bandage beside his eye and thanked the stars they’d both made it though this battle, then followed Mike. Mole first, then they’d make good on the promise he’d seen in Mike’s eyes.

The End


End file.
